


we keep pivoting around each other

by frozensight



Series: a whole new world (literally) [14]
Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensight/pseuds/frozensight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter sent out the spidey-signal for help when he was moving into his new apartment. All he got was Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we keep pivoting around each other

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "you were the only one that offered to help me move in"

Peter stared at his first new empty apartment, hands proudly placed on his hips, and beamed at the narrow hallways and the small, barely room for one person kitchen. The ceiling was yellowed from past tenants smoking, and the hardwood floors were scuffed. Meanwhile, the walls were a dingy white, with nicks and marks littered sporadically all over. Every window in the apartment (and there were four: two in the tiny living room, one in the small bedroom, and a fourth in the minuscule kitchen) faced another building, giving Peter a less than optimal view. Yes, Peter's apartment was ugly and entirely sort of awful, with noisy neighbors already included, but it was _all his_ and Peter _loved it_. 

Then Peter thinks about all the boxes in the rented trailer parked at the curb outside, and Peter's slightly less fond of the entire 'moving out' thing. Especially, since after his call for help to his fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. superhero friends, none of them had responded--not even a sarcastic 'congratulations on doing an adult thing!' from Ava. He would've had help from Aunt May at least, but she was out of town this weekend, and Peter started at Empire University on Monday, which was the whole reason he got the apartment in the first place. Briefly he contemplated web-slinging all of his stuff up his new apartment, but the guaranteed lecture from Fury about being inconspicuous didn't seem worth it at all. He had just resigned to the day long task, when someone cleared their throat behind him. 

"So this is your new pad, huh Parker?" 

There, in his doorway, stood Sam—aka the last person Peter actually wanted to answer his signal for help. At least, Peter thought, he had had the foresight to not wear his bucket. 

“Yup.” He gestured briefly around as a small ‘ta-da’ moment. “What do ya think?” 

“It’s nice,” Sam said, nodding as he leaned on the doorjamb, “It’d probably be better if it had your stuff in it, but that’s just my opinion.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “If I had already gotten all my stuff moved in, I would’ve sent a group text about having a party, not asking who was free to lift boxes.” He eyed Sam critically, looking over his (still) shortest teammate. “You sure Luke isn’t free? He’d be a lot more helpful than you when it comes to getting my couch up.” 

Sam snorted and walked out the door, flipping Peter off before he disappeared into the hallway. “Just remember to pivot, Parker, and we’ll get it up just fine.” 

Jogging after him, Peter barely remembered to shut his door as he asked, “Did you just reference _Friends_?” 

“I don’t know, do you know what this means?” Sam knocked his clenched fists together in Peter’s direction, a small grin on his face. 

Peter laughed, catching up with Sam and keeping pace with him as they made their way down the stairs (the elevator was out, naturally). “When did you have time to travel in space _and_ watch tv?” 

“Well, Parker, it may shock you to know that _Netflix_ exists, and that I have not, in fact, spent _all_ of my life in space.” 

“From the way you talk about it, it doesn’t seem that way. It’s always space this, space that—I’m almost surprised you’re not going into astronomy or something.” 

Sam scoffed as the pair of them made it to the lobby. “Dude, do you know how much _math_ is involved with physics? Hint: it’s a lot, and I’m not great at it. Besides,” he added as they make it to the trailer, “culinary school doesn’t take as long, and it _is_ something I’m great at, so win/win.” 

“I can’t believe Fury’s paying for you to learn to cook,” grumbled Peter as he opened the trailer to reveal several boxes and a few miscellaneous pieces of furniture. 

“He’s paying for Ava to become a rocket scientist or whatever and Doreen to become a squirrelologist, so why can’t I become a chef?” 

“Squirrelologist?” 

“Her words, not mine. Besides, aren’t you going to _art school_?” 

“Hey! I’m getting a _minor_ in photography, thanks. I’m majoring in engineering.” 

“Right, how could I possibly forget what a giant _nerd_ you are.” 

Peter threw a box at Sam, who thankfully caught it. “Shut up and start carrying stuff. It’s why you’re here after all, to be my pack mule.” 

“Actually,” Sam started as he grabbed another box, “I came because you offered free pizza to whoever showed up.” 

“You have to _earn_ the pizza first, asshole,” replied Peter as he picked up a couple boxes himself. “Come on, Monica, we have work to do.” 

“ _Monica_?” demanded Sam as they made their way back up, boxes blocking their views of the stairs, so they moved slowly and carefully. 

“Yeah, you’re both chefs and kinda lovably annoying.” 

“Oh, okay, if we’re playing this game then you’re Ross ‘cuz you’re a loser, unfunny, _and_ a nerd.” 

“Pretty harsh words you got there for the guy who’s supposed to be buying you pizza later.” 

“ _Fine_ , you’re a loser, a little funny, but still a nerd, so you’re like, Chandler or something.” 

Peter looked back at Sam, pausing long enough for Sam to bump into him and almost fall—except Peter always wore his web-shooters as a precaution, and was able to catch him before he fell. The same, however, couldn’t be said for the boxes, which tumbled down the steps to the next landing. 

“Damnit, Pete, why’d you stop? Don’t tell me you have a problem with _Chandler_ now, and if so, you’re not allowed to talk about _Friends_ with me because you apparently have horrible opinions.” 

Shaking his head, Peter straightened up and resumed walking, though he wasn’t about to admit that he stopped because his brain had had to take a second to imagine what it’d be like if they were like Monica and Chandler, and he was _definitely_ not going to admit that he didn’t find the idea completely repulsive. He had a reputation to uphold of not getting along with Sam, and he didn’t feel like ruining it on the stairs of his new apartment building—at least not before Sam helped get all his stuff up. 

“Sorry, I missed a step,” he murmured over his shoulder. Sam huffed, but didn’t say anything further about the incident. 

It took them about two hours to get it all upstairs, and by that time they they’d fallen into a routine of grunting and bickering as they walked up and down the steps from the trailer and back to Peter’s fourth floor apartment. Peter gradually managed to put the idea of them as Monica and Chandler to the back of his mind, only for it to suddenly resurface when they collapsed onto the couch—which had taken much pivoting and a good twenty minutes itself to get upstairs—and Sam turned to him and said, “Okay, Chandler, time for pizza.” 

He paused for a moment before he pulled out his cell phone and pulled up an app. "What kind of pizza you want, buckethead?" 

"I'll just eat whatever you get, just no anchovies." 

"Urgh, no problem there." Peter quickly ordered a large meatlover's pizza with pineapple (only on half, just in case) and a two-liter of Coke since he definitely hadn't had a chance to go grocery shopping yet. 

"Now what?" asked Sam, staring at the wall opposite the couch, where Peter's TV would be if it wasn't currently in a box with his game systems and movies. 

"Well," began Peter, looking at the time on his phone, "We have at least thirty minutes before the pizza gets here." He looked up and sighed at the boxes surrounding them, making the apartment seem even smaller than before. "I guess we could start unpacking?" 

"Just because I helped you carry this shit up here, Parker, doesn't mean I'm now your servant. Free pizza doesn't pay for unpacking." 

"What would?" The words left his mouth, and Peter immediately regretted how flirtatious it came out. Sam's eyebrows shot up, a dumbfounded expression on his face, and Peter kind of wanted to throw up. "I mean—" 

"Tsk tsk, what would Fury say if he knew Spider-Man was down with bribery?" 

Feeling like he'd just been shocked by a defibrillator, Peter let out a breathy laugh. "Probably a lecture on responsibility and presenting a good public image. You know, the usual." Sam laughed, the grin on his face causing Peter to relax minutely, before he got off the couch and moved towards the nearest box. Peter raised an eyebrow. "Uh, what are you doing?" 

Sam looked over his shoulder at Peter, and replied, "I'm helping you unpack because God knows you don't have any other ideas swinging around in your brain, webhead." 

"But I thought free pizza wasn't enough payment for that?" 

"It's not." Peter frowned as he followed suit and stood next to Sam and the box. Sam grinned at him, "You're just going to have to owe me." 

Fair enough, Peter thought. "Owe you what?" 

"I'll let you know when I figure it out." 

His heart didn't skip a beat at the mischievous glint in Sam's eyes—it _didn't_ —but he might've stopped breathing for a second. 

"Okay." 

"Cool, now why the hell do you have so many books?" 

"I read!" 

Sam faked a gasp. "You can read?" 

"Stuff it, Alexander." 

Together they fell into a rhythm of unpacking. After they haphazardly placed the books on Peter's one bookshelf—he'd organize them by author and genre later when Sam wasn't around to make fun of him for it—they sorted the boxes by where they'd go in the apartment. A lot of them, Peter realized in surprise, were clothes. He hadn't even been aware he _owned_ that many clothes. They've just found the TV when the buzzer sounded, announcing the pizza had arrived. 

"Set it up while I get the food, okay?" 

"Okay, but only because I want to watch Netflix." 

Peter rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the grin as he snatched his wallet and went downstairs. 

When he came back, pizza balanced on one hand while the two-liter was tucked under his arm, Peter found Sam standing at one of the living room windows, the blinds open to reveal the beautiful brick wall of a neighbor building, while he talked on the phone to someone. 

"Yeah, I know, and I _will_. I just gotta find the right time to tell him, you know?" 

"Tell me what?" 

Sam spun around, eyes bugging a little at the sight of Peter—even though he was fairly certain the sound of the door opening and shutting should've been cue enough that he was back. "I'll talk to you later," mumbled Sam into the phone before he hung up, stuffing the phone into his pocket with one hand as he rubbed his face with the other. "You're back." 

"Yeah, funny how it doesn't take long to pick up a pizza from downstairs." Peter set the pizza and the two-liter on the coffee table and faced Sam directly. "Now what do you need to tell me?" 

Sam huffed, avoided Peter's gaze, and replied, "Who says I was talking about _you_ anyway?" 

"The way you reacted to me asking for one." Peter tried to scan Sam's face for any clues, but all he came away with was a faint blush—which, weird. "The way you're deflecting for another." 

"I'm not _deflecting_ ," grumbled Sam, "I'm just not sure why I should tell you anything when you can't prove you're who I was even talking about." 

Peter rolled his eyes, plopping down on the couch and opening the pizza box. He'd found, over the years, that the best way to get Sam to spill the beans was to ignore him. "Fine, dude, I don't care. It was just an observation anyway. I assume that since you had time to make a phone call, the TV is set up?" 

"Of course, I'm not incompetent like you." He wasn't watching Sam, but he still heard his sigh of relief as he sat down next to him on the couch again. Peter hid a grin with the slice of pizza he'd picked up as he turned on the TV and tried to connect to Netflix, only to remember a fatal flaw of his plan. 

"Shit," Peter muttered eloquently, mouth full of half chewed pizza. 

"Damnit, Parker, you haven't started your internet service yet, have you?" demanded Sam, as the screen declared that they did not have an internet connection. 

"The guy comes out tomorrow." Peter felt stupid. He'd made the appointment before leaving Aunt May's house that morning. He _knew_ he didn't have internet or cable yet. He turned to Sam, who had his eyes closed as though he needed to take a moment to process this new instance of Peter's stupidity. "Oops?" 

Sam snorted, a hand rubbing over his face before his eyes opened again, staring at the TV—as it mocked them—for a moment before he said, "I'll try to pick a movie out of your stash that doesn't suck." 

"Hey! None of my movies suck!" 

Mouth open to retort back, Sam never got the chance because their cell phones beeped at the same time. Peter opened his first, and he sighed at the notification that a robbery was taking place on 6th Ave. 

"Guess it's time to suit up not tuck in," Sam said remorsefully, looking down at the pizza. 

"It's just a regular bank robbery," Peter began optimistically, "Maybe the police can handle it?" 

Their phones beeped again, this time it was an update saying that the robbers had a freeze ray. Sam grabbed a piece of pizza before he stood up. "You just had to say something, didn't you?" 

Grabbing another slice of his own, Peter frowned, "It's not like I _want_ to go kick butt; I'd much rather stay here with _you_." His heartbeat skyrockets as he realized what, exactly, he'd said, the emphasis he'd put on 'you', and Peter wanted to die. "I mean here. Just here. You can leave." 

Sam watched him, but didn't comment beyond, "Go suit up, Webs. I left my helmet back at HQ, so I'll need a lift to join in on this one." He paused, shrugging as he looked away and added, "Or, you can save time and go handle it yourself, and I'll just wait for you here." 

Peter forgot how to breath for a few beats. His eyes latched onto Sam, whose eyes were steadfastly avoiding him, and from his angle and the shitty lighting of his shitty apartment, he couldn't tell if Sam was also blushing, but from his posture he definitely _could_ tell that he was anxious about Peter's response. Which he shouldn't be, Peter thought, because they didn't always team up for missions. Plenty of times they went solo. They had before S.H.I.E.L.D. and would for long after. It made sense for him to offer to stay behind since he'd—logically—left his helmet back at HQ when he'd assumed that he'd just be helping Peter move. If they hadn't been at his apartment, then Peter also wouldn't have been anywhere near his suit. 

So why did his brain just shut down? 

"You'll...wait here?" A half shrug answered him. "You're gonna just...wait in my crappy apartment for me to get back from fighting crime? Even though I don't have internet yet and you think all of my movies are terrible?" 

"There's pizza," Sam replied lamely, his eyes glancing over at Peter for a split second. "Besides, I don't have a better place to be today anyway." 

Their phones beeped— _again_ , and Peter didn't check his phone because Sam checked his. "Lemme guess, there's either another freeze ray or a heat ray now?" 

"Neither. Looks like a shrink ray. Iron Spider and Agent Venom are already on the scene, but if this photo is anything to go by, they're gonna need help." 

"On it," Peter nodded, hurriedly swallowing the last bite of pizza crust before hopping over the couch so he could change into his suit. When he came back, Sam was still standing, eyes shifting from his phone to Peter when he walked back into the room. He grinned a little, and Peter was glad that he hadn't slipped on his mask yet so that Sam could see him grin back. "If I'm not back in half an hour, you might want to consider finding your way to your helmet, Buckets." 

"Oh you mean I might have to save your ass for the second time today?" Sam shook his head, "And here I thought that you getting your own apartment meant you were finding independence." 

"With Fury around, we both know there's no such thing as independence," scoffed Peter as he finally tugged his mask on as he prepared to leave out his window, "And don't lie, you love my ass." 

Peter shot his web and slung away from his apartment, but could've sworn that he heard Sam's muffled reply of, "Unfortunately, I do." 

It took Peter about eight minutes to reach the bank and another ten to help Amadeus and Flash take care of the robbers—just in time for Iron Man and Ant-Man to show up and take them away. 

"Good work, kids," said Stark, patting Peter's shoulder as he tossed the shrink ray they'd confiscated to Pym, who immediately started looking it over. "We couldn't have done it without you." 

"You literally did nothing," retorted Amadeus, arms crossed. 

Stark shot finger guns at Amadeus. "Now you're learning, kid," and then flew away, leaving Pym to grumble to himself as he shrunk and got on one of his ants. 

"For a genius, he's such an ass." 

Peter laughed as he balanced on the edge of the roof, preparing to web away. "Well, Amadeus, it takes one to know one." 

He swung away before Amadeus could reply, but Flash's laughter was all he needed to hear. Normally he would've stuck around, tossed a few more jokes or asked if anyone wanted to get some burgers, but he only had less than ten minutes to get back to his apartment before Sam maybe kept his promise to come help. Peter could totally subvert that by texting him the battle was over, but where was the challenge in that? 

When he climbed in through his window, seven minutes later, Sam was still sitting on the couch, though he'd apparently found a movie to start watching while Peter was out kicking bad guy butt. 

"And here I was beginning to think I'd have to come and rescue you," Sam said dryly, barely even glancing Peter's way before focusing on the TV again. Peter scoffed as he slipped into his room to quickly change out of his suit and back into his jeans and shirt. 

"Did you leave me any pizza, Buckethead, or am I gonna have to order something else for myself now?" 

"There's maybe a slice or two left, I don't know I haven't been paying attention." Peter saw him shrug as he walked out of his room, barefooted. "Besides, didn't you buy the pizza as a bribe anyway?" 

" _Half_ the pizza was to be a bribe. The rest was for _me_." 

"Then you should've gotten two." 

Peter threw himself on the couch, effectively elbowing Sam in the stomach, causing him to make an indignant noise as Peter reached for one of the three remaining slices of pizza. "What're you watching?" he asked between bites. 

" _Princess Bride_ because it's the only not terrible movie you own, apparently." 

"Hey!" 

"Besides this, name one movie you own that's decent." 

" _All of them_." 

"Parker, no one likes _Stargate_. In fact, _you_ only like it because it sets up for the shows." 

"Emmerich did his best with what was available at the time!" 

"Yeah, well, his best sucked." 

Peter snorted. "You're just bitter about the reboot." 

"Maybe a little," Sam grumbled as he leaned back into the couch, away from Peter. 

He laughed and held in the urge to ruffle Sam's hair. They fell silent as they watched the movie, and Peter tried to focus less on the fact that their legs were touching and more on the story. It was hard considering Peter knew most of the lines by heart and was actually forcing himself to not quote them out loud. (Ava hated anyone doing this, and even though she wasn't with them, it was habit to restrain himself around anyone from the old team. He was pretty sure he could hear Sam mouthing along to lines too, though.) 

"I'm hungry," declared Peter soon after Wesley and Buttercup made it into the swamp. 

"Dude, you've had four slices of pizza!" 

" _Dude_ , I also tackled some robbers with _science guns_ today." 

Sam scoffed. "You were hardly fighting them alone; you can't have expended that much energy." 

" _Saaam_ ," whined Peter, purposefully sliding down the couch so that he could look up at Sam—who was pointedly not meeting his eyes, "I'm a growing boy, I need to eat." 

"You're a bottomless pit, Webs, that's what you are." Peter made sure his gaze was the most pitiful thing this side of Saturn until Sam finally glanced down at him and sighed. "Fine. _Fine_. You bought earlier, so it's my turn or whatever. What do you want?" 

Ideally, Peter thought, he'd ask Sam to cook for him, but seeing as his small amount of kitchen stuff was still in boxes and he had no groceries, he knew that wasn't going to fly. "Uh, takeout?" 

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone. "No duh, dumbass—what _kind_?" 

"Chinese?" 

"Okay, there's a decent looking place a few blocks over." Sam fiddled with his phone for a bit before he set it aside and looked at the movie again. "It'll be here in like twenty minutes." 

"What, I don't get to have any input?" 

Sam leveled Peter with a look, "Peter, you get the same thing every time we order Chinese." 

"Maybe I wanted to try something different!" 

"Then you can have some of mine if you're feeling adventurous. Quit whining and watch the movie." 

Peter watched him for a moment longer, however, categorizing how Sam remembering his Chinese food preferences made him feel and how the offer to share food made his stomach clench in ways that had nothing to do with hunger. "As you wish," he said, grinning at the instant flush that spread over Sam's face before he looked at the TV screen again. 

"I hate you," mumbled Sam quietly as Peter felt a hand nudge his. 

He hummed as he laced his fingers with Sam's. "No you don't." 

"Well I _wish_ I did." Sam paused for a few seconds before he asked, "How'd you figure it out anyway?" 

"It has been said that I'm something of a genius." 

"You created your own web-shooters, not the solution to world peace." 

" _Rude_. Also, I didn't figure it out; I took a chance." 

Sam sputtered. "You _took a chance_?! What if you were wrong?" 

Peter leaned his head on Sam's shoulder, looking up at him with a small smile. "See, this is why you're Monica. It didn't matter if I was right or wrong because the worst case scenario was me never taking the chance." 

"That's stupid. You're stupid." 

"Is that why we're holding hands? Stick with what you know?" Sam glared at him, but the red of his cheeks completely offset it, making Peter grin even more widely at him. 

"God, why do I even like you?" Sam asked rhetorically, his head resting on the back of the couch. 

"I have been told I'm pretty and witty and gay." 

Sam tugged on his hand as he made to get off the couch. "That's it, I'm leaving, enjoy the free Chinese food—ack!" 

Peter pulled him back, causing Sam to land more on his lap than the couch. Their faces were inches apart, and Peter honestly had no idea what part of the movie they were at anymore. More softly than he meant, and _way_ more seriously than he intended, Peter murmured, "Stay?" 

To which Sam rested his forehead against Peter's, their eyes locked, and replied, "As you wish." 

There was a beat and then Sam was pressing his lips to Peter's. If someone had asked Peter how he thought his day would end, this certainly wouldn't be even in his top five answers. Peter leaned his head back to give them a better angle, and Sam kept pushing forward, following Peter's movements without complaint. They remained like that, their hands wandering casually as they kissed like the world might end tomorrow--and given that Dr. Doom had been quiet recently, Peter wasn't going to write that off just yet--and they probably would've gone on longer, but Sam's phone went off. 

Mouth open to tell him to ignore it, Peter received a final kiss before Sam slid off his lap, phone pressed to his ear as he said, "I'm on my way down right now." 

Right, Peter thought as he turned his head to watch Sam leave his apartment. Their takeout. A grin spread across his face as he rested his head on the back of the couch because now he had two things to look forward to when Sam got back--Chinese food and kissing Sam some more. 

**Author's Note:**

> i can't begin to tell y'all how long this has been sitting in my drafts done, but i kept rewriting the last couple of paragraphs, adding/deleting stuff every time i opened the damn thing until i went "fuck it, this is fine"
> 
> also i got hit with Feelings about how far spideynova has come in terms of amount of fic/content the other day, and i just want to say i love and appreciate you all for being dedicated to this lil ship we've built together


End file.
